


I Would Walk 500 Miles

by Agent25



Series: One Love for the Heart [10]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-03 14:43:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent25/pseuds/Agent25
Summary: In a few hours T’Challa would be home. They’d eat, shower, and maybe have some fun…Everything would be perfect. He just knew it.Of course. Just the thought was enough for the universe to remind him of his place and punch him in the dick like the bitch she was.





	1. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a few hours T’Challa would be home. They’d eat, shower, and maybe have some fun…
> 
> Everything would be perfect. He just knew it.
> 
> Of course. Just the thought was enough for the universe to remind him of his place and punch him in the dick like the bitch she was.

_“Ileke idi yen o, idi yen o. Esu bo ko yoko, esu bo ko yoko.”_

Bucky couldn’t help but hum along to the catchy song as he shuffled back and forth throughout his kitchen. It was from the ever growing playlist Shuri was compiling for him. Apparently his affiliation for swing and jazz music made him a ‘sad old man’ on top of his title as broken white boy. So, Shuri was educating him on all the tracks he had missed.

He’d never tell her…but he really enjoyed her musical taste. It was as modern and fun as she was.

Outside the sun was beginning its descent towards the horizon, sunset would be here in an hour or so. Until then the orange glows of sunshine filtered inside, basking him in toe-curling warmth, comforting like a worn sweater. Through his open windows he could see the trees oscillating in the early evening breeze. Crickets were only beginning to chirp, creating a harmonious scene outside.

He was in his little, cozy cottage, nestled among the sprawling grounds of the Royal Palace. It had been given to him when he had first arrived in the Golden City after his sojourn in the River Tribe. He had initially been offered a lavish bedroom within the palace, courtesy of T’Challa, but Bucky had been hesitant to accept. He had become so used to the rustic way of life among his friends in the village he had called home for months that living in the grandeur and majesty of the palace had frightened him. Also the fact that he was worried he’d break something priceless had haunted his brain.

So the cottage had been given to him instead, palace still in eyesight. He could walk to the royal residence in five minutes, if using his enhanced abilities to pick up the pace as he meandered his way through the thick foliage.

He slept here every night…well, except for the nights when he found himself in a certain king’s bed. Which, was happening more often as their relationship grew into something beyond Bucky’s wildest dreams.

T’Challa had been dropping more than one hint over the last few months that he would be thrilled to have Bucky move into his rooms. In fact, his _hints_ were becoming more and more obvious with every passing day. At this rate, Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if all his possessions were moved into T’Challa’s quarters while his back was turned.

It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want to live with T’Challa. Waking up beside the man was the highlight of his day. And he had to admit, it was getting harder to say no when his lover batted his dark eyes at him.

But the Palace…was a lot to deal with. It was overwhelming to roam its marbled halls and it was a constant reminder of what exactly T’Challa was, a ruler of an entire nation. Bucky was essentially a nobody, only allowed to be here by the king’s grace. He liked the familiarity and simplicity of his cottage. So, for now, it would remain his home. T’Challa would grumble, but that didn’t stop him from spending the night whenever possible.

As the music shifted into a new song, Bucky pivoted on his heel to overlook the growing mess in his cluttered kitchen. If he was honest with himself, it looked like a disaster zone. Pots and pans were scattered carelessly across every available space. Ingredient after ingredient – more than Bucky could count – were laid out as he used a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Knives and utensils were flung hazardously across the counter.

Why the mess?

Well, blame T’Challa for that.

He had been absent from Wakanda for the past several weeks, called away to Europe and the United States for UN business. He had attempted to persuade Bucky into accompanying him, but with a new crop of recruits for the Hatut Zeraze in need of training, Bucky had remained behind to oversee the process.

It was the longest they had been apart since their relationship began.

Sure, they talked almost daily in passing on the phone, but a disembodied voice could never replace the man himself. T’Challa had a presence to him, he was as captivating and mysterious as the moon, pulling everyone into his orbit.

For three weeks Bucky had been forced to sleep alone. For the majority of his life he had slept alone (when he had the luxury to sleep). But yet, a year spent as T’Challa’s lover and it was practically impossible for him to get a decent night’s rest without his fellow warrior spread out next to him. The bed was too big, mattress too soft, pillows too hard. He’d roll around from dusk till dawn, barely scraping together a handful of hours asleep.

He wanted, no, _needed_ T’Challa beside him. In every way.

Luckily for him, T’Challa was returning today.

And how was Bucky welcoming his king home?

With food, of course.

Now, Bucky wasn’t a professional chef or anything like that, but he wasn’t too bad in the kitchen. If he did say so himself. No one had ever gotten food poisoning, at least.

He turned towards the oven were his trifecta was cooking away. He was preparing all of T’Challa’s favorites: beef stew, pilaf rice, and _viazi karai_ (fried potatoes). He leaned over the oven, the heat smacking him in the face, as he surveyed their progress. The rice was abundantly fragrant as cardamom, saffron and cinnamon wafted up to his nose. The stew was hearty and plentiful as it bubbled away in a pot. The potatoes were sizzling in the oil as they crackled and popped.

A proud smile split across his face as he planted his hands on his hips.

In a few hours T’Challa would be home. They’d eat, shower, and maybe have some _fun…_

Everything would be perfect. He just knew it.

Of course. Just the thought was enough for the universe to remind him of his place and punch him in the dick like the bitch she was.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Bucky groaned, heading falling back as the ringing echoed throughout the cottage. His eyes slipped shut as he reached up, massaging his forehead in frustration.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” he muttered to himself as the beeping continued loudly. With a curse he stalked towards his living room, picking up the communicator laying discarded on a side table. He held it in his vibranium hand, glaring down at the ‘A’ that was blinking mockingly up at him.

God, he needed new friends.

With a click of his hand he activated the device, watching with a frown as a blue hologram flickered into view, displaying a static vision of Steve’s face. His best friend had the gall to look sheepish as he observed Bucky.

_“Hey, Buck.”_

Bucky rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. “The world better be ending.”

Steve’s lips turned down as he looked contemplative. _“Well, I don’t know about that. But there is a building situation in Hong Kong. We could use your help.”_

Bucky grunted as he slumped sluggishly against the counter, setting the communicator down on the flat service as he sulked. A year ago when Steve and the others had been restored as Avengers and were no longer deemed international threats, it had seemed like a swell idea to become an auxiliary member of the team, and help out from time to time. Cleary, that had been a sucker decision on his part and he was now regretting it with every fiber of his being.

He typically only got called in for world ending events, or when something was occurring in his neck of the woods. Only last month he had been called in to defuse an escalating situation in Cairo.

“Can’t you do it without me?” Bucky whined, “T’Challa’s arriving in a few hours. I haven’t see him in weeks.”

Steve looked apologetic as he nodded, _“I know, Buck.”_

“Do you?” Bucky countered, “Let me repeat myself: I haven’t seen him in _weeks._ I’m only a man, Steve, I have needs. Needs only T’Challa can fulfill.”

Steve grimaced, nose turned up as if he smelled something funky. _“TMI, Buck.”_

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bucky spat sarcastically, “Am I offending your delicate sensibilities? How terrible of me.”

 _“Bucky.”_ Steve got out, looking just as unhappy as Bucky felt. Well, good. If he was going to suffer, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it alone. He’d drag Steve kicking and screaming with him.

Steve sighed, the fight leaving him as he peered at his friend. _“I’m really sorry to do this. If I didn’t need you, you know I wouldn’t ask.”_

Bucky deflated, the anger and bitterness seeping out of him as he slowly nodded. He knew, abstractly, that this wasn’t Steve’s fault. He had just been the easiest one to blame.

“Yeah,” he murmured quietly, “I know.”

His face went blank as he got down to business, showing the disappointment down. “When will you be here?”

_“Twenty minutes, give or take. Thirty tops.”_

Bucky nodded, eyes darting towards the clock. He’d just have enough time to prepare. With one final, resigned look towards his surprise, a surprise he’d no longer be here to see, he resolved himself for the task at hand.

“Alright,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’ll meet you at the Kenyan border.”

Steve smiled gratefully, _“Thanks, Buck.”_

Bucky waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, Rogers. Where would you be without me? See you soon.”

The he clicked the device off as Steve immediately disappeared. Bucky huffed out a breath, running a hair agitatedly through his hair. He gave himself a minute to pout before getting his head in the game. He went to the stove, turning off all the flames as he quickly and methodically packed away the food into containers. They were advanced technological ones, capable of heating whatever was inside so that it would taste like it had come straight off the burner. At least T’Challa would enjoy it when he got in.

He set the containers down on the counter, right in plain sight, as he stalked towards his bedroom. He stripped along the way, throwing off his apron and tossing it to the side. In his room he quickly threw on his navy and brown battle fatigues. He wasted no time in strapping various weapons to his person, stocking up for the fight ahead.

When that was done, he tied up his hair to keep it out of his eyes. He marched determinedly through his cottage and exited. He had hardly taken twenty steps when Njeri materialized at his side, silent as ever in her split-toe boots. The only sound came from her beaded tabard as it lightly jingled when she moved.

“Where are we going?” she inquired curiously, spear in hand as she easily kept pace with Bucky. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he kept going forward.

 _“I’m_ going to Hong Kong,” he told her pointedly, “Avengers business.”

The youngest and newest member of the Dora Milaje rolled her eyes heavenward as she patiently reminded him. “How many times do I have to tell you? I go where you go.”

Oh, Bucky was more than aware.

It still knocked him sideways that he had his own Dora Milaje. He could remember the conversation with T’Challa clear as day.

_“I don’t see why I need my own personal bodyguard.” Bucky grouched sullenly as he crossed his arms over his chest, leveling a lackluster look towards T’Challa. “I can look after myself just fine, thank you very much.”_

_“It is not a matter of your skills.” The king breathed out deeply before continuing, “It is customary. Both my mother and sister are guarded by the Dora Milaje.”_

_“Yeah, but they’re your family. It makes sense for them to be protected.” Bucky argued back, hoping that logic would save him from this. T’Challa’s eyes only twinkled as he stepped closer to the super-soldier, reaching up to softly cup his face in between his hands. His fingers caressed the smooth skin of Bucky’s cheeks._

_“Yes, **my** **family.** ” T’Challa emphasized with a gentle shake, “You are as much my family as they are.” _

_Bucky’s jaw went slack as he stared at the man before him. He loved T’Challa and the two had made promises to one another, but this? This was something else entirely. Still in shock, all he could do was sputter as his brain tried to process T’Challa’s words._

_T’Challa only smiled as he watched him. “I shall take your silence as yes.”_

_He leaned in, slotting their lips together as his arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist, pulling him closer._

_With distractions such as that, Bucky had no time to think as he gave in and surrendered to his lover._

So, his constant companion day in and day out was Njeri. It was a good thing they got along, because no matter how many times he tried to shake her off his scent, she always found him.

“Alright,” he conceded as they came upon the hanger of ships that the Palace had on demand. _“We’re_ going to Hong Kong.”

“Excellent,” Njeri’s teeth flashed as she smiled. “What shall we take? A Dragon Flyer or hoverbikes?”

Bucky’s eyes immediately went towards the hoverbikes. Of all the amazing tech in Wakanda, and there was plenty of it, he had to admit, he was awfully partial to the hoverbikes. A striking blue, they had a sleek design that resembled a dragonfly in flight. With their propulsion engines anyone could take to the sky and cruise throughout the vast canopy of forests that covered Wakanda. Nothing was more freeing that zooming through the clouds, the wind blowing through one’s hair.

Really, his decision was easy.

“Hoverbikes.” he said as Njeri clucked her tongue teasingly. She still headed to them without arguing, storing her spear and straddling the seat. Bucky seated himself on his own, watching as the console came to life with glowing lights. With a few hand flourishes the bikes ignited and took off from the ground.

The two shot up through the air as the bikes darted above the Golden City’s skyscrapers. The wind whished past them, Bucky’s hair shaking about in its bun, as they traveled east, towards the border. The sprawling city of Birnin Zanan disappeared behind them as the mind-blowing beauty of Wakanda’s environment rose up to meet them.

Soon enough they were flying through the vast Inyoka Canyon. Brilliant, red sandstone mountains spiraled up around them, reaching for the sky. They were covered in luscious, green foliage. Beneath them the mighty IQela River was surging forward, crafty butterfly fish darting out of the water to catch unsuspecting prey midair before landing back in the rapids. As the hoverbikes lowered to flutter across the water’s surface, Bucky could see the scaly skin of alligators as they swam along the currents.

“I’m surprised,” Njeri announced from beside him as they flew along at leisurely pace, enjoying the breathtaking views along the way. “That you would be willing to take on a new mission with the King set to arrive shortly.”

Bucky sighed as he leaned back into his seat, feeling the machine purr in between his legs. “I didn’t have much of a choice.” he told her, “Comes with the territory of having a superhero for a best friend.”

Njeri glanced at him inquisitively. “What of the dinner you were making? You spent all day cooking.”

Another thing about having his own bodyguard, meant that nothing he did anymore was a secret. Luckily for him, he and Njeri got on like a house on fire, so he didn’t mind that she knew everything about him these days. It helped to have someone constantly in his corner.

“Hopefully T’Challa will be appreciative when he sees it.”

A thought suddenly flashed through Bucky as he looked through his cargo pants pockets, remembering the little goodie bag he had stashed. He opened it, pulling out a packed potato.

“Here, try this. I think I finally got the recipe down.” He tossed it to her and she agilely caught it, not even flinching as it came flying towards her. She popped it in her mouth, delicately tasting it before lightly shrugging.

“It’s good.” she complimented after swallowing, “Needs a little more coriander.”

Bucky bit experimentally into one, chewing it contemplatively before nodding in agreement. “Hmm, so it does.”

He couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed. He had wanted them to be perfect for T’Challa. The man had been without his native cuisine for weeks and Bucky wanted to make sure his first dish back on Wakandan soil was just as good as the ones he had been eating since childhood.

Love did crazy things to people.

Njeri smiled as she eyed him, clearly seeing his nerves, “Do not worry, White Wolf. I am sure the King is with you for more than just your culinary skills.”

Bucky snorted as he continued munching on the potatoes, periodically throwing some to Njeri. She caught them every time without even blinking.

“Yeah, it’s certainly not because I’m a real housewife.” he quipped.

“Hopefully not of Atlanta.” she murmured to herself. Bucky only raised an incredulous eyebrow as he waited for her to explain. She shiftily deflected, looking a twinge self-conscious.

“That was a joke…and I may have an abnormally large guilty pleasure for trashy, American reality TV shows.”

Bucky grinned in understanding, “Don’t we all?”

Njeri arched an eyebrow as she asked, “And what’s your poison?”

 _“The Bachelorette.”_ he stated without shame, “I’ve binged five seasons alone in the three weeks T’Challa’s been gone.”

“Impressive.” Njeri commended with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Emily’s my favorite Bachelorette.”

“Oh please,” Bucky countered, “It’s Des who is the true queen.”

Njeri laughed, shaking her head. “If you say so, White Wolf.”

She accelerated on the engine, whizzing ahead and kicking up frothing water in her wake.

“Hey!” Bucky yelled as he was splashed, water soaking the bottoms of his cargo pants. She only laughed louder as she continued onwards. Bucky shook his head, “No respect these days.”

He followed after her as they ascended higher and higher, coming to a stop at Bast’s Window. The bikes hovered before finally landing on the rocky cliff. The famed vantage point allowed for a spectacular view of the surrounding canyon as cliffs plunged down to the veld and grassy plains below. Bucky could see straight ahead for miles in every direction. He got off the bike, breathing in the refreshing air as he surveyed the stunning landscape.

“Where are your friends?” Njeri questioned as she sat idly, sharpening a small knife. Where had that even come from?

Bucky could only shrug as he turned towards the border, looking out at Kenya. “They should be here just about…”

A dark speck on the horizon was quickly advancing towards them. As it grew closer it was quickly distinguished as one of the Avengers’ quinjets. Not nearly as nice as the Royal Talon Fighter, but not a bad way to travel either. It circled them once before descending, kicking up dirt with the engine’s exhaust as wind blew harshly around them.

“Now.” he declared as it landed, hatch opening before them. With a shared look the two walked up the ramp and into the quinjet. Bucky’s eyes immediately darted throughout the space, calculatedly picking up every detail.

Natasha and Sharon were piloting the quinjet, seated next to each other in the cockpit. Wilson and Rhodes were huddled together, talking animatedly about something. Probably wingspan or speed or whatever it was flyboys talk about when they get together. Steve was overlooking a set of screens. He was in uniform, though sans the helmet and shield.

“Hey, Buck.” he greeted with a smile and wave. Bucky opened his mouth to reply when he rapidly realized who wasn’t in the quinjet.

“Wait a minute,” he said as the hatched closed behind him and the aircraft began rtakeoff. “Where’s Wanda and Vision?”

Steve fidgeted uncomfortablly as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Oh. Yeah. About that…they’re on vacation. We couldn’t get a hold of them.”

What. The. Hell.

Unbelievable.

Bucky threw his arms up as he marched towards Steve, gearing up for an epic tirade. “Oh, I see, they get to have romantic shenanigans but when _I_ try, I have to go save the world and get cock-blocked?”

He jabbed Steve in the chest with his finger. “Wow. Not cool, Steve, not cool.”

He could hear Rhodes and Wilson snorting as they whispered to one another conspiratorially. Steve had the audacity to look chagrined as Bucky ranted.

“Cry us a river, Barnes.” Natasha called out from the front of the ship, red hair flipping over her shoulder. “Then build a bridge and get over it.”

“I think it’s cute.” Sharon chimed in with a smile aimed Bucky’s way. It petered off as she glanced at Steve. “Romance is the key to any healthy, functioning relationship.”

Steve breathed out through his nose as he leveled his girlfriend with a look. “I told you, I’m sorry about forgetting date night last week.”

“Uh huh,” she unconvincingly nodded, “You can tell that to the couch when you sleep on it tonight.”

Steve sighed forbearingly, “Yes, dear.”

“Someone’s getting dragged.” Sam muttered gleefully, rubbing his hand together as he beamed.

“So, Barnes.” Rhodes called out, sly grin crossing his face as he held up his cellphone. “We hear you’re quite the chef nowadays. I have to admit, while you do rock an apron, lavender really isn’t your color.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he stared uncomprehendingly at the screen. Yep, there was definitely a picture of him cooking away. He turned to Njeri, who was standing near Natasha and Sharon, with a betrayed expression marring his face.

“Why?” was all he could utter. She only shrugged nonchalantly in return. “How?”

“There’s a group chat.” Was all she said in defense of her betrayal. 

“Group chat?” He looked around, noticing as every single Avenger studiously avoided his gaze. His jaw was slack as he turned towards Steve and hotly demanded to know, “There’s an Avengers group chat? And I’m not on it!?!”

Steve grimaced as he turned his big, blue eyes on his oldest friend. “To be fair…we did invite you into the Facebook group, but you left almost immediately. So, we didn’t think you’d want to be on the group chat.”

“Hell yeah I don’t want to be on the group chat,” Bucky snapped as he punched Steve’s shoulder. “But you didn’t even give me the opportunity to refuse. It’s the principle of the thing.”

He turned away, looking at Njeri. “Please tell me you haven’t sent it to T’Challa.”

Njeri shook her head, though a wicked grin curled across her face. “No, but I did send it to Ayo and Aneka.”

Which meant T’Challa most likely had already seen the picture.

Wonderful.

“I hate all of you.” he said to the quinjet at large. He really needed better friends. The Hatut Zeraze would never do this to him. They respected him…most of the time.

“As amusing as this is,” Natasha chimed in, “Playtime is over. We’ll be landing soon.”

Steve’s face smooth over as he snapped to attention, transitioning into Captain America with striking ease.

“Alright, team,” he commanded, “This is what we’re dealing with.”

The holograms around him shifted to show news reports on everything happening in Hong Kong. Bucky leaned in closer, eager to see what exactly was so terrible that they needed to call him in. He expected mass destruction and an army of unstoppable beings (sentient or not).

That was not what he got.

He blinked, head tilting in confusion as he stared at the shimmering screens.

“Please tell me there’s an army of aliens somewhere off screen.”

“Nope.” Steve said, eyes grim.

“Horde of murderous robots?” Bucky valiantly tried again.

“Not today.”

“Just…one guy.” Bucky stated, watching as Steve nodded.

“Yep, one guy.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Bucky muttered as he reached up, pinching his nose. He wasn’t going to punch Steve. He wasn’t going to punch Steve. He wasn’t going to punch –

“What the hell am I doing here?” Bucky grouched. “When did Earth’s Mightiest Heroes become unable to take down a single guy with a weird gun?”

“Because,” Steve said as he pointed towards the screen, “That’s what he can do with his weird gun.”

Bucky watched as the gun was aimed and fired, eerily blue plasma springing forth. It encased an entire building and Bucky watched in horrified fascination as the building flashed once, twice, three times before completely disappearing on the spot, leaving nothing behind but empty space.

“Holy shit.” he breathed out as Steve nodded bleakly.

“What happened to that building…did he vaporize it?”

Steve looked bleak as he stared at the video. “We don’t know yet. Now you understand why I called you?”

Bucky nodded once, the severity of the situation finally sinking in. Whatever they were dealing with, it wasn’t going to be pretty. Bucky kept quiet the rest of the flight, listening as Steve gave everyone their parameters.

Soon enough the quinjet was landing on an abandoned street in the bustling city of Hong Kong. It had been hastily evacuated, items scattered throughout the lanes as people had run for their lives.

“Sam, Rhodey, you’re up in the air.” Steve commanded as the hatched opened and everyone began moving. “Bucky and Njeri, you’re our snipers. Natasha and Sharon are with me. Do not engage with the man unless you absolutely have a clear shot, you understand?”

Affirmative grunts and nods were given by all. Rhodes and Wilson, in their metallic suits, immediately took off, weaving through skyscrapers. Steve, Sharon and Natasha hoofed it on foot, fanning out through the deserted streets. In the distance Bucky could see the bursts of the gun as the madman went on a rampage.

Bucky and Njeri came to the best building with a perfect vantage point. Njeri assessed the building before nodding her approval. She turned to Bucky with a knowing look.

“Give me a boost.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but crouched down, offering up his hands. She placed her foot in it, and trusting his strength, remained still as he tossed her up into the air. She caught onto a building ledge with ease and began scaling the building, reaching the roof without breaking a sweat. Once she was secured, Bucky stomped his feet on the ground, activating the energy-dampening boots. They glowed purple for a moment as they came to life.

He tentatively picked up his foot, tapping it against the wall experimentally. Just as promised, it stuck. Bucky grinned as he placed his other foot on the wall. He went totally horizontal as he stared up the building’s side.

“Thank you, Shuri.” he murmured to himself as he concentrated and using his strength, picked up his foot and began walking forward. He climbed the building, popping up on the roof as he landed next to Njeri.

“What took you so long?” she ribbed as she knelt down by the ledge. Bucky snorted as he kneeled next to her, pulling off the rifle strapped to his back. They looked down, having a perfect view of the gunman straight out of science fiction marched up the street, gun firing everywhere with wild abandon.

Sam and Rhodes were darting in and out of the sky, ducking and dodging beams from the gun as they tried to draw him out. Steve, Sharon and Natasha were scattered throughout the street, keeping out of sight.

Of course, everything had to go to hell.

The madman had caught sight of the three Avengers on the ground and began firing at will at them. Bucky watched as Natasha narrowly avoided being hit by the beams, ducking beneath a car that was hit and disappeared seconds later.

Steve sent his shield flying when the gunman had his back turned, and while it smacked him upside the head, it didn’t startle him enough to drop the gun.

Bucky’s ears perked up as, through the static and chaos of battle, he heard… _crying?_

He looked down, eyes roving across the scene, as they caught sight of a little girl, whimpering and crying as she cowered behind an abandoned newsstand. The gunman – not seeing her – was still coming directly towards her as he eviscerated cars and telephone booths around her. She wasn’t safe as long as she stayed there.

“What are you doing?” Njeri hissed as Bucky stood, going to the building’s ledge.

“Avenging.” he said as he stared down at the steep incline. With a quick sign of the cross, he threw himself off the building.

“White Wolf!”

He fell and fell before regaining control of himself. His boots, controlled by something other than his freewill, attached themselves back to the building. Bucky trusted implicitly in them as he ran down the building’s side, wind whirling past him.

When he was three stories up, he jumped off the building's side, flipping through the air as he landed just like a cat, feet on the ground and in a crouched position. He didn’t even have a moment to feel shock at how he had successfully managed that astounding feat.

He jumped up, racing to the little girl’s side. He didn’t hear the surprised yell of the gunman as he burst through the scene, spying the super-soldier. Bucky scooped up the girl, racing for the street corner as the newsstand disappeared in a flash of light behind them.

When he got her to safety, he directed her to the police at the barricade down the street. She took off running, her little legs carrying her fast. Bucky was just about to turn and join the fight when Steve’s panicked yell echoed throughout the street.

“Bucky!”

Blue light encased him, tingling as the sensations set his body on fire. Bucky could only stare as the world warped and morphed around him. He looked down at his hands, both metal and flesh, as he felt funny on the inside.

What the hell was happening?

And before he could speak or scream he just…disappeared.

Like he had never been there in the first place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this is a bit reminiscent of Bucky's fate in IW, but trust me, the end results will not be as tragic. I'd never do anything to break up Winterpanther. While Inyoka Canyon and Bast's Window are my creations, they are based off the Blyde River Canyon and God's Window in South Africa. The energy-dampening boots come straight from the comics and are a part of White Wolf's suit. 
> 
> The song from the beginning is Skelewu - by Davido. 
> 
> Thank you for all the previous reviews and love you guys have shown for this series overall. It really makes my day to see such faithful and dedicated readers. Please review! I'd love to hear any feedback or thoughts you guys have for this story. 
> 
> Pic time!
> 
> Bucky's cottage:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/28084099918/in/album-72157665778003888/)
> 
> Wakandan hoverbike (not mine, found on Google):  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/28084099908/in/album-72157665778003888/)
> 
> Inyoka Canyon:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/28084099978/in/album-72157665778003888/)
> 
> Bast's Window:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/28084100048/in/album-72157665778003888/)


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever this was, it was not a social call.
> 
> “Tell me,” he commanded instantly, eyes turning steely. “What has happened?”
> 
> T’Challa watched as Steve crumbled in on himself as he struggled to speak concisely. He eventually was able to get out two words. They pierced T’Challa’s heart instantly.
> 
> “It’s Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hover your mouse over the Xhosa words/phrases they will appear in English. Translations also at the bottom.

_"Kumkani,"_ Aneka’s lyrical voice announced from the cockpit of the Royal Talon Fighter. “We are home.”

A trill of excitement flooded through T’Challa, igniting his senses on fire as he stood. He moved forward to the windows just as the aircraft flew through the vibranium barrier. The leafy canopy of forests dematerialized as they came through the other side, revealing the brilliance of the Golden City, lit up as a majestic beacon in the inky night, beckoning her beloved son home after so long away.

The jet cruised leisurely as it passed high-rise towers, with their mixture of ancient architecture and the advanced technology Wakanda wielded. They appeared as towering rondavels with thatched roofs and massive hanging gardens surrounding them.

T’Challa’s heart felt light and carefree as the plane coasted across Birnin Zana. The invisible weight that had been oppressively pressing down on his shoulders for weeks finally lifted and he felt as if he could breathe for the first time, sucking in the tastes and sounds of Wakanda greedily.

It was good to be home.

A man – king or not – should not be away from his homeland for so long. Not when his heart yearned to return.

As his baba always told him, _no matter how far you are from your house, you will keep going until you get home._

T’Challa remained standing even as the jet smoothly landed on the tarmac. With a mechanical hiss the hatch opened and stairs revealed themselves to him. He walked down them, Ayo and Aneka flanking him. The vibrant red and orange hues of their armor stood out against the backdrop of night. The air was warm and comforting as it hit T’Challa. He breathed it in deeply, his body loosening with relief as the frustration of the last several weeks faded away.

Suddenly he was exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to fling himself onto the first horizontal surface he came upon.

But one thing first…

“To the Palace, Your Highness?” Ayo asked, waiting for his move.

“No,” he said slowly, “To the gardens.”

He didn’t have to look to see the sly glances his two bodyguard were exchanging behind his back. In fact, he was rather certain they had known his desired destination without needing to ask. They did so because they found it so amusing to see their king like a child with his first crush.

They knew who lived in the gardens.

It was where he was spending more and more of his precious free time.

Gods, he really was going to have James move into his quarters sometime this decade. It was maddening that they still had separate living spaces after so long together.

“As you wish, My King.” Ayo said with a bow of her head, hiding her tittering laughter. T’Challa resignedly rolled his eyes before gliding forward, the Dora Milaje shadowing his every step.

Soon enough they were walking beneath the marula trees as they rustled in the pleasant breeze. Bright yellow fruit hung throughout the leaves above. Echoing around them was the beautiful song of the greet reed warbler. As T’Challa followed the familiar and well-worn path to James’ cottage, he was guided by the luminescent glass lanterns dangling down from the tree branches. Fleeting blue light swirled around him slowly in a lazy dance.

The cottage rose up to greet him. T’Challa’s brows furrowed as he saw how dark the bungalow appeared.

With questions now drifting through his mind, he bid his Dora Milaje goodnight. _“Ulale kakuhle.”_

Ayo and Aneka echoed it back as they took their positions for the evening. T’Challa entered the rustic home, eyes cutting easily through the darkness. It was silent inside, no sounds of breathing or a beating heart could be heard.

“James?” T’Challa called out fruitlessly as he flicked on lights, bathing the cozy cottage in a dim, golden light.

James wasn’t here.

T’Challa methodically swept through the space, coming to a stop in the kitchen as he found several containers sitting on the countertop. He pulled one towards him, the heat emanating from inside warming his palms as he popped the lid. He almost let out an obscene moan as the heavenly aroma of beef stew wafted up to his nose. His stomach grumbled loudly, having missed the flavors of home while he had been away.

A broad grin transformed his tired face as he peeked into the other two bins, spying pilaf rice and fried potatoes.

“Oh, James.” he murmured fondly as he stared down at the plentiful gift. He should have known the super-soldier would have a surprise like this up his sleeve. No wonder the man had been subtly asking about T’Challa’s favorite foods while he had been away.

Still…wonderful as this was, it did not explain why the man T’Challa wanted to share it with was not here.

He arched an eyebrow when he saw a single Kimoyo Bead resting innocuously on the counter. With a quiet sigh he reached out, grasping the bead between his fingers. He rolled it until it glowed. Sand shifted out of the bead, bending and forming into a virtual image of James. The man looked apologetic as the recorded message played.

 _“Hey, sweetheart.”_ James’ lips upturned into a small smile. T’Challa felt as ease as he rested his eyes on the sight of his lover. While this wasn’t ideal, it was still better than nothing at all.

_“If you’re watching this, it means you’re home. Yay! The unfortunate thing, is clearly that I am not here with you. Boo!”_

T’Challa chuckled as he continued watching the recording. He was tempted to reached out and stroke James’ cheek, though all it would do would upend the sand projection.

By Bast, he missed him.

_“Unfortunately, duty calls. I’m with the Avengers, doing, you know, the typical stuff, avenging and whatnot.”_

James rolled his eyes, looking fed up at the notion of actually having to be a superhero. His eyes peered up at T’Challa imploringly as he spoke seriously.

_“I’ll try to be back as soon as I can. But you know how these things go, it could take minutes or it could take hours to clean up whatever mess we’ve gotten ourselves into this time. So, here’s what I want you to do. First, eat the feast I prepared for you. Second, take a shower. And thirdly, go to bed.”_

He pointed firmly at T’Challa, a stubborn glint in his pale blue eyes. _“I mean it, mister. Don’t be a martyr and wait up for me. Go to bed. You must be exhausted.”_

It still surprised him how well James could read him without even be present to see his moods. James lowered his hand and smiled one final time, a sad note to the curve of his mouth.

_“I’ll see you soon, promise. Love you.”_

And with that the message came to an end as the sand dissolved, tucking itself back into the engraved bead. T’Challa held the bead in his hand, staring down at it for several long moments, as if willing it to produce his partner in person. He finally broke out his reverie as he pocketed the bead and searched for a plate and utensils.

He seated himself at the table and did as James asked him to, he ate the food so thoughtfully and tenderly prepared for him. It was comforting to eat the foods he had grown up with, even more so knowing they had been loving made by the man who held his heart in his hands. He ate as much as his stomach could handle before standing and storing the leftovers in the fridge. He washed his dish, setting it in the sink.

He tiredly shuffled towards James’ bedroom, stripping off his suit along the way. He wandered into the bathroom, turning on the shower until the water was hot and steam was filling up the space. He stepped into the spacious stone shower, groaning audibly as the hot water slid down his back, erasing the tension in his muscles that had existed for weeks. The consequences of dealing with pigheaded politicians for so long. T’Challa let his head hang low as the water washed over him, reviving him and reminding him that he was home.

He picked up his favorite shampoo, pouring a sizeable amount into the palm of his hand before rubbing, bringing the mixture to a plentiful lather. He ran it through his hair as the ethereal scents of Manuka honey, African rock fig and baobab oil surrounded him. It could have been hours later when he finally emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist as he drifted into James’ bedroom.

The window was open, allowing the cool night air to gust in. the translucent curtains swayed gently in the wind. T’Challa came to a stop at the wardrobe as he pulled out a pair of his sleep pants that he kept here for occasions such as these. After a moment of consideration, he also brought out the ridiculous _I Love NY_ t-shirt that James had insisted on purchasing the last time they were in the American metropolis. He wore it often, always with a cheeky grin whenever T’Challa spotted it on the super-soldier. T’Challa had threatened to burn it more than once, it was that atrocious. But alas, the shirt lived on.

T’Challa held the shirt up to his nose, breathing in the recognizable essence of his partner. It was the distinct musk of cedarwood and nutmeg with a hint of spice lurking in its undertones. Smelling it almost made it seem as if his lover was standing next to him and not hundreds of miles away. T’Challa breathed in deeply a final time before he slipped on the shirt, feeling like James was near as the scent wrapped around him in a soothing embrace.

He looked at the bed longingly before shaking his head and walking out of the room. Even though he had been commanded to sleep – and really? Who was King around here? – he knew true rest would be alluding him until a certain wild haired man was in his arms once again. So he would wait. Just as James had been planning on doing before the Avengers called him away.

He plopped down onto the couch out in the living room, content with watching the nighttime pass him by. He didn’t know how long he had sat there when his bracelet lit up with an incoming message.

A sliver of dread coiled through his gut when he saw who exactly was contacting him. With anticipation crossing his face, he accepted the call and watched as the floating image of Steve Rogers formed before him.

“Captain.” he greeted neutrally, keeping his misgivings to himself as he stared down at the Avenger. What he saw did not inspire confidence in him. Steve…if he was being honest with himself, looked like a mess. His eyes were red and blotchy, and devastation was written clearly across his earnest face.

 _“T’Challa.”_ Steve choked out thickly as the apprehension ratcheted up further.

Whatever this was, it was not a social call.

“Tell me,” he commanded instantly, eyes turning steely. “What has happened?”

T’Challa watched as Steve crumbled in on himself as he struggled to speak concisely. He eventually was able to get out two words. They pierced T’Challa’s heart instantly.

_“It’s Bucky.”_

+++

 

The first thing Bucky felt was heat, scorching hot as it prickled his skin. He groaned as he came to, his head felt like a bag of bricks as he struggled to open his eyes. He owlishly blinked them open only to slam them shut when he was met with blinding light. He sluggishly kicked out his legs and breathed a sigh of relief when he could feel them flopping about. He slowly clenched his fists, feeling both flesh and metal respond accordingly. He reached up, patting his torso to assure himself that all of him was here.

Question was though, where was _here?_

He hesitantly opened his eyes again, using his hand to block the demanding sun. He dragged himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the rush of dizziness that slammed through him, threatening to make everything he had last eaten upchuck. He sat with his head down for several long minutes, until the nausea subsided.

When he finally felt somewhat functional again he raised his head, trying to get a sense of his bearings. He cursed at what he saw.

Sand, coarse and rough, surrounded him. As far as he could see in every direction was sand and unforgiving drylands, with sporadic bursts of barren brush dotting the horizon. No water, no sign of human life, no food. Nothing.

He was definitely not in Hong Kong.

“Shit.” he blew out as he stood, staggering about as he regained his sense of equilibrium. He rubbed his eyes, hoping against hope that this was some kind of sick joke and any moment the Avengers would pop up yelling _surprise!_ But the longer he stood there beneath the unrelenting sun the more he realized that he was wherever he was, and that he wouldn’t be getting out of here anytime soon.

He reached up to his ear where his comm was located. He tapped it a few times as he called out. “Guys? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?”

He was met with eerie static.

With a shake of his head he raised his vibranium arm. When Shuri had created the appendage, she had embedded a virtual GPS system into his wrist. With a press of his metallic joints the hologram appeared. The image was frazzled and filled with static, blinking in and out of view rapidly. Bucky could only glimpse his coordinates before the image disappeared altogether.

“Hey! Wait, no!” he yelled as he smacked his wrist several times, but the screen refused to reappear.

Luckily for him, he had gotten to see where he was stranded.

Ogaden Desert. Ethiopia.

Unfortunately for him, it was one of Africa’s hotspots for terrorist activities. So, not a great place for a guy like him to be caught wandering in.

He needed to get out of here.

He unsheathed the vibranium dagger at his waist. With a flick of his wrist he slashed it against the grain of his micro-weave mesh jacket, the only way the material could be penetrated. He dug around in the gash and pulled out the tracker Shuri had placed there. She had thought he’d never notice its presence on his person, but he’d give her a big, fat kiss on the cheek if this tracker was the reason they found him.

His hope died when he pulled out the small bug and saw how fried it was. There was no way it was giving off any kind of signal. Damn. He angrily swatted it away. Using the dagger he began digging through the shifting vibranium plates at his shoulder, knowing that was where the other tracker was hidden. It was tough business, rooting through circuitry and wires, but he eventually found the bug and yanked it out. Because he had the worst luck in the world, the tracker was just as useless as the other one.

He growled as he threw it aside. With those trackers dead he was completely off the grid. The Avengers, T’Challa, Shuri, no one would be able to find him. If he was a betting man, he’d bet that his little _trip_ from that asshole in Hong Kong had done this. Somehow, however the hell he had gotten here, it had ruined all of his communication devices and any hope he had of getting out of here.

Wait a minute…

With a burst of energy he rooted through his cargo pants, pulling out his intact Kimoyo Beads. He held them up, examining them closely in the harsh sunlight. They seemed completely unblemished. Whatever had happened to him hadn’t affected the beads.

Which was good...if he ever made it back to Wakanda.

Kimoyo Beads needed a vibranium source to work, which meant he’d have to be within the African nation for his bracelet to activate. And he was nowhere near Wakanda at the moment. So, for now, all they were was decorative jewelry. Still, their presence was a comfort to Bucky as he slid them onto his wrist, feeling their familiar weight as the beads knocked lightly against one another.

He looked around at his desolate surroundings. He couldn’t just wait here in the hopes of his friends miraculously finding him. He also couldn’t stay and risk the chance of hostiles stumbling upon him. His best bet was walking.

Wakanda was hundreds of miles away.

Even with the serum, it’d take days for him to reach the Wakandan borders. And that was ignoring the fact that both water and food were not guaranteed on this _little_ journey of his. He’d starve faster than a normal man, same with dehydration. His body would start cannibalizing itself soon enough if he didn’t find resources.

He shook his head, shoving away the grim thoughts circulating his brain. He wasn’t gonna think like that. He was going home. He lived through more than 70 years as Hydra’s pet, he’d make it through a desert just fine. T’Challa was home, and there was no way he was dying out here without planting one final kiss on the love of his life.

Buoyed by such determined thoughts he looked up at the sun, high in the sky. It was summer, meaning the sun rose on the northeast horizon, it would set on the northwestern half tonight. With this in mind he pivoted slowly, calculating true east. He came to a stop when he found it. He then performed a perfect 180˚, coming to a stop as he stared westward.

Towards Wakanda.

Towards home.

He began walking, boots kicking up sand as he stumbled through the haze of heat. As he meandered through the seemingly unending wilderness, he kept his eyes and ears on the lookout, both for water, food and any possible hostiles lurking about. He was both lucky and unlucky when he came across none of those things.

The heat was blistering, he could feel the sweltering sand beneath the soles of his boots. Fortunately for him, he was wearing one of Shuri’s suits. Woven from vibranium – honestly, what couldn’t that mineral do? – the micro-weave mesh of his getup was climate controlled. When it was too hot the jacket remained cool, regulating his body temperature so he wouldn’t overheat. If it got too cold it would keep him and his organs warm and functioning.

Still, not even Shuri could stop the sun shining down on him with such unrelenting force. Even with his hair pulled up and off his neck, he could feel beads of sweat pooling there. His head felt hot and muggy as he continued forward.

He marched for hours. He kept going even as the sun descended in front of him, bathing him in golden light. When it began to grow dark he finally stopped, dropping down to the sand. He gathered supplies around him, creating a fireboard, tinder nest, and spindle from the bark and dry wood of the brush nearby. With the dagger at his waist he cut a small v-shaped notch into his fireboard, before pushing bark beneath it. He placed the spindle in the depression he had created and began spinning it roughly back and forth between his hands.

It was a laborious process, even with his enhanced strength. But eventually an ember burst into existence. Dropping the ember onto his bark he shuffled quickly to his little tender nest of dry grass and brush. It caught easily, as he leaned down, gently blowing onto it until it began a fully-fledged flame. It crackled and popped as he fed it, watching it become a real fire before his eyes.

He made sure to keep the fire small. Who knew who could see the fire and smoke out here? He didn’t want anyone coming across him in the night. When the fire was secured he sat back, legs pulled to his chest as he huddled for warmth. His jacket was doing wonders for him, but the coldness of the desert night could not be underestimated.

As he settled in for the night, laying back on the sand, he couldn’t help but find himself enchanted by the natural beauty occurring above him in the night sky. Stars dotted every available space, intertwined together in a celestial tapestry that took his breath away. The heavens above him were a dizzying display of periwinkle and violet, bursting together in a cosmic painting.

With no visible signs of life near him for miles, he received a completely unhindered view of the Milky Way stretching out before him in panoramic views. He realized just how small he was, under this unending, ancient sky.

He shivered in awe as he continued staring up at the dark night. Beautiful as it was, the thing he wanted most in this world was T’Challa. If he hadn’t gone to Hong Kong, they’d be in bed together right now.

Suddenly the fact that they didn’t live together was so stupid. Look at him, he was stranded in the desert. Both he and T’Challa lived in a world where weird shit like this happened every other weekend. He could die tomorrow (if he was still stuck out here, he probably would). And yet he wasn’t even man enough to move in with his partner.

Well, that was going to change. _When_ he made it back to Wakanda, he was moving himself into T’Challa’s rooms. He wasn’t even going to ask, just move all his possessions into the Palace. Because sleeping alone like this sucked. All he wanted was T’Challa.

With a soft sigh he turned his head, in the hopes of getting even just a couple of hours rest before he began his walking again.

Above him the night stretched on, into infinity.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I began writing this, I fully intended to only have two chapters, but as I was writing up the second part, it just seemed to gel better as three. So, we now have an extra chapter moving forward. Wahoo! Hopefully you'll all bear the suspense with me. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the reviews, kudos, bookmarks, etc. I love hearing from you guys, so feel free to send me feedback. 
> 
> Translations:  
> Kumkani - My King 
> 
> Pic time!
> 
> The luminescent lanterns in the gardens:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/27177127587/in/dateposted-public/)


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Rather,” Shuri continued, “It displaced Bucky’s very essence, sending him somewhere else.”
> 
> “Somewhere else?” Wilson asked disbelievingly. “Like what? You’re saying this, what? Teleported him?”
> 
> “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Shuri intoned, unaware of the bomb she was dropping on the group of superheroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the phrases and sentences in Xhosa, if you hover your mouse over the text, it should display it in English. I'm excited to try this and see if it works! :D

“We will find him.” Shuri reassured T’Challa for the umpteenth time as the Royal Talon Fighter continued its flight towards the Avengers Compound in Upstate New York. The king only nodded once, eyes glossy as he stared forward, expression lost and despondent. The bead James left him was burning a hole in the pocket of his trousers, but he was unwilling to part with it.

Right now, it was the only thing he had of his partner.

“Brother,” Shuri shook his shoulder, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Her gaze was set ablaze with certainty, both in her intelligence and in James’ ability to survive. “I promise, we _will_ find him.”

“I believe you.” he told her as he reached up, squeezing her hand that was holding onto his shoulder.

“Good,” Shuri told him with a satisfied nod. “I am a genius, after all.”

She stayed pressed close to him as the jet cut through the clouds, the Compound coming into view beneath them. It circled once before landing smoothly on the awaiting airstrip. T’Challa was out of his seat before the hatch fully opened, Shuri and the Dora Milaje nipping at his heels.

It was a dismally grey day, matching T’Challa’s mood as he disembarked. A light drizzle was falling upon them and when he breathed out he could see mist hovering in front him before dissipating. Waiting for them was Wilson, Rhodes and Njeri. They hadn’t even stepped onto the platform when Shuri began going a mile a minute.

“Where is the gun?” she barked out to the two airmen, her arms nearly overflowing with her tech, as she deemed the Avengers’ resources too rudimental for such a monumental task.

“In the lab,” Rhodes explained with a respectful bow of his head towards T’Challa. “I can take you there.”

Shuri looked back a moment at her older brother before he nodded approvingly towards her. She snapped her head determinedly.

“I’m going to go and figure out how to save my future brother-in-law.”

And with that, she and Rhodes were hustling forward into the main building of the complex, disappearing behind swishing doors. Before T’Challa could open his mouth and demand that Wilson take them to the perpetrator of this crime, who was in custody somewhere on the premises, he was startled when Njeri threw herself down onto her knees before him. Her head was bowed, shoulders slumped with shame as she offered him her prized spear, the weapon of the Dora Milaje.

 _"Yithathe." _ she brokenly ordered, face still forcibly turned down. The air tensed around them as he felt the Dora Milaje shift uneasily behind him. T’Challa remained still as he stared down at one of his fierce warriors.

“Njeri – “

“You trusted me to protect James Barnes.” she interrupted, her voice thick with faltering emotions. He imagined tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes. “And I failed you. I am no longer worthy to carry this spear.”

She offered it to him, hands shaking as she did so. She was stripped bare before him, guilt and disgrace as visible as her armor.

“What would you have me do?” he quietly asked, the weight of his title pressing down on his shoulders. Njeri – young, beautiful, fiery Njeri – slowly raised her bald head, tears streaking down her cheeks as she stared at her king.

 _"Ukukhishwa."_ she breathed out, the word hurting her as she spoke it. Yet she kept her head raised, she looked him square in the eye, a proud warrior to the end. T’Challa tilted his head, locking eyes with Okoye over his shoulder. His general’s face remained neutral, though he could see the sorrow in her eyes. She looked at him for a long moment before nodding once, letting his will be done as king.

He looked back at the bowed warrior before in one swoop he leaned down, clasping both of her shoulders with his hands.

 _"Ngeenyawo zakho, ijoni."_ he told her, raising her up from her kneeling position. “Wakanda is not done with you yet.”

Njeri’s face momentarily crumbled before smoothing over with duty as she nodded.

“Yes, My King.” And with that she fell into formation alongside her sisters, who graciously welcomed her back into the fold. With that done, T’Challa set his eyes on Sam Wilson, who had silently watched the scene with his observing eyes.

“Take me to the prisoner.” he ordered, and though misgivings were apparent in Wilson’s gaze, he began walking, the Wakandan entourage following him in his wake. They marched through glass and chrome hallways, the finest of American ingenuity, T’Challa was led to believe. It was all very unfeeling and cold to the king, but he did not have time to think more of it as they came upon Steve.

He was standing out in the hallway, head bent and shoulders dejected as he had his arms wrapped around Sharon Carter, seeking comfort from his significant other. His face was hidden in her neck, and T’Challa could hear her whisper encouragingly to him, her fingers gently running through the hair at the nape of his neck.

It stung to see such a display of loving affection. T’Challa wanted that with James, but James was nowhere to be found. Natasha Romanoff was also present in the hallway, leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed, a perfectly bored façade on her face. While T’Challa did not know her well, he knew that the façade was hiding a well of emotions deep within the assassin.

“T’Challa,” Steve greeted as he separated from Sharon. His eyes were red and puffy, clearly time and distance not lessening the pain of once again losing his best friend on his watch.

“I want to speak to him.” T’Challa said without fanfare. He could detect the heartbeat of a living being in the room all of them were standing in front of. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that it contained the criminal who had caused this madness.

The Captain was quick to shake his head. “It’s no use, T’Challa. Natasha’s been interrogating him for hours and he hasn’t cracked. He’s not talking.”

When he looked at Romanoff she only shrugged, a _what-can-you-do_ expression on her face.

A low growl came ripping out of T’Challa’s throat as he stepped closer to the Avenger, anger marring his face. “He will talk to _me_.”

He knew the man meant well and was good intentioned, but they were running out of time. And this was about James. There was nothing T’Challa would not do for his beloved.

“T’Challa – “

“Captain,” T’Challa snapped, his patience far worn thin. He could feel it thrumming beneath his skin, he was itching for a fight and Steve Rogers was as good a choice as any. “Believe me when I say this. Move, or you will be moved.”

 _"Phambili."_ Okoye snapped, banging her spear harshly down on the floor.

In one fluid movement the Dora Milaje encircled him, weapons at the ready. They’d follow their king anywhere and against any foe, even Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. T’Challa was certain if it came to blows, they’d be the ones to come out victorious.

Romanoff’s and Carter’s hands went to their waists where guns were hidden, Wilson tensed but remained in his spot. Steve held his stance for a long moment before he deflated right before them. With a frown he nodded, stepping aside from the closed door.

“Just don’t kill him or anything.” he gruffly said as T’Challa stepped towards the door.

“Trust me,” T’Challa replied, “He will wish for the release of death after our conversation.”

He stepped into the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Okoye nodded to her sisters as they spread throughout the long hallway, taking up their posts. Steve didn’t know how long they stood there when they all heard terrified screaming from within the room.

He started forward, but Sharon’s grip on his arm kept him in place. He swallowed thickly but stayed still as the yelling quieted. After what felt like an eternity, the door slid open and T’Challa stalked out, displeasure and disappoint etched into the lines of his face.

“That man,” he snarled as he paced the hallway like a caged animal, all kinetic energy hidden within graceful, deadly movements. “Is useless.”

Natasha snorted from her perch, not shirking beneath the dark look the African monarch shot her. “We could have told you that.”

T’Challa opened his mouth, baring his teeth when he was interrupted by the hearing device hidden behind his ear.

 _“Brother.”_ Shuri’s voice rang clearly among him and the Dora Milaje. T’Challa grunted in response, ignoring the startled looks of the Avengers who were clearly out of the loop.

“What is it?” he questioned her, turning his back on Steve and the others.

_“I have made a breakthrough with the gun. Come quickly.”_

Hope flared through his heart at his sister’s words. “We are on our way.” he informed her before the line went quiet.

“Where is your lab?” he inquired of Steve. The Captain hesitated for a moment before he began walking as the motley crew of Avengers and Wakandans followed him. Not nearly fast enough for T’Challa the group entered the brightly lit laboratories and found Shuri and a team of scientists intently examining the weapon.

“What have you learned?” T’Challa demanded as he came up to Shuri’s side. He stared at the machinery, hatred clear in his gaze. If it were up to him, he’d tear it apart with his bare hands until nothing was left except for bolts and scraps. However, the gun was key to understanding what had happened to James. Without it, they would never know.

Shuri hummed lightly as she looked down at the tablet in her hands. “It’s quite a clever invention, which is surprising because an idiot created it.”

“Get on with it.” T’Challa grumbled, a growl growing within his chest. Shuri shot him a glare but assented nonetheless.

“Well, our initial fears were unfounded. This gun does not have the ability of destroying matter and particles.”

Relief flooded T’Challa. His greatest fear had been that this machine had eviscerated James, killing him where he stood. To know that that hadn’t happened to him calmed his erratic heart, if only a little.

“Rather,” Shuri continued, “It displaced Bucky’s very essence, sending him somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?” Wilson asked disbelievingly. “Like what? You’re saying this, what? _Teleported_ him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Shuri intoned, unaware of the bomb she was dropping on the group of superheroes.

“Teleported him where?” Steve asked hopefully, color finally coming back to his face now that he knew his friend was still alive.

Shuri frowned, looking apologetic as she continued explaining. “That is what I do not know. Look here,” she pointed to the holographic screens displaying news reports from across the world.

“A car from Hong Kong was discovered atop the Empire State Building. An ATM was found in the middle of Sydney Harbour in Australia. That building you described disappearing right before your eyes? Satellites have images of it appearing in Antarctica. Luckily no one was in it, but still.

“There is seemingly no rhyme or reason to where these objects have landed. It is the same with Bucky. He could be anywhere.”

With a wave of her hand a spinning globe appeared, pinpricks highlighting where collateral damage from Hong Kong had reappeared. T’Challa’s soul felt heavy as he stared at it.

One hundred and ninety-seven million square miles.

That was the total square surface of Earth.

And James was out there…somewhere.

Alone.

 

+++

 

It had been five days.

Or maybe six?

Bucky honestly couldn’t remember anymore.

Whatever it was, it had been a hell of a long time ago. But he kept walking, nothing but his instincts telling him he was going the right way. He had spent days, wandering his way through the seemingly unending Ogaden Desert, having been surrounded by sand, heat and sun.

Food had been scarce. Water even more so.

Yesterday…or the day before (his memory was slipping) he had stumbled upon a little creek with dirty, muddy water. It had been the most delicious water he had ever drank. He had dunked his head in, greedily lapping at the cool liquid until his stomach could take no more and caused him to forcibly upchuck.

But whatever water his body had soaked up, the heat stripped it away. His stomach had moved past the point of hunger and was anchored firmly in starvation. It physically hurt, going so long without anything more than a few berries he had found in a sad looking shrub.

He had torn the sleeve of his jacket, creating a makeshift wrap to protect his head from the relentless sun. He was filthy, sand and dirt clinging to his clothing and skin. Everywhere he looked was sand: under his fingernails, in his hair, in the corners of his eyes, in his mouth.

Sand, sand, sand, sand and even more sand.

He hated it.

He let out a mighty yell as he tripped over a rock. His reflexes were piss-poor with fatigue and he went down hard. His hands scraped across the ground, knees banging into the dry earth. Foolishly using up strength he didn’t have to spare, he grabbed the blasted rock and whipped it, watching with dim satisfaction as it landed far away.

God, he didn’t want to keep moving.

Why couldn’t he just stay here?

But thoughts like that were the enemy. If he kept on like this, he’d never make it to Wakanda. And if he didn’t make it to Wakanda…well, that just wasn’t an option. So with a groan, Bucky pushed himself to his feet and staggered forward, looking up to the sun for guidance.

He kept going, as the desert slowly but surely faded and green (faint and light) began to take its place. Life was before him, and where there was life, there was civilization. He saw mountains in the distance, a welcoming sight after so much flatness.

He struggled forward. His mouth was parched, lips so dry they cracked with every movement of his mouth. He licked them, but that only opened them to bleeding sores. He could feel his body beginning to shut down, his brain following as well. His steps grew uneasy, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he was walking in a straight line anymore.

He looked up at the heavens, blinking at the strange sight above him.

When did they get two suns?

He rubbed his eyes, trying to force his mind to work, but everything just kept spinning around him. Spots appeared before him, flashing madly as darkness began spotting at his peripheries.

In his quickening deterioration, he was unable to hear the whizzing of a spear slicing through the air until it landed at his feet, embedded into the ground as a warning. He stared at it with a dumbfounded expression, brain not quite comprehending the sight.

But he did know something.

That spear was made of vibranium.

His head snapped up as he could see horses riding towards them, warriors atop them in their brightly woven Basotho blankets, a clear marking of who they were.

The Border Tribe.

A broken chuckle painfully escaped Bucky as he stared at the blessed sight coming towards him. The Border Tribe was here, which meant he had crossed the perimeter.

He was in Wakanda.

He was home.

Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes as he lurched forward, falling to his knees in thanks.

Unfortunately for him, they did not look happy to see him.

He really couldn’t fault them. He looked like a crazy person who had entered into lands where he was not welcome. They were brandishing spears and weapons as they closed upon him, distrust clear in their eyes.

 _"Yima!"_ Bucky croaked out hoarsely, his throat constricting achingly. _" Musa ukudubula! Ndingumhlobo waseKanda!" _

He raised both arms, ignoring the yelling that erupted among the warriors as he tugged down his bottom lip, displaying the luminous tattoo of a War Dog. Hostility fell away from them as the Border Tribe shifted, examining him closely. They glanced at one another before a hushed murmur broke out among the soldiers.

_" Ingcuka Emhlophe."_

Bucky’s eyes slipped shut as the world tilted dangerously on its axis. He was so tired, he couldn’t keep going. He had used up everything in him, there was nothing left to give. He had just wanted to come home, and now he was.

Feeling safe among his adopted countrymen, he let himself slip away.

He slumped to the ground, unconscious before his head even hit the grass. As he fell into darkness he missed his Kimoyo Beads lighting up as a familiar voice called to him.

_"Bucky!”_

 

+++

 

 

_"I'll see you soon, promise. Love you."_

T’Challa rolled the bead in the palm of his head, rewinding the message as it displayed James’ face. His lover looked up at him with a tender smile as he closed his video.

_"I’ll see you soon, promise. Love you.”_

The message ended, sand disappearing, leaving T’Challa with only a bead and his thoughts. He was seated in the corner of Shuri’s lab, staring out dispassionately at the mines. After Shuri had revealed what the gun could do, T’Challa, his sister and the Dora Milaje had returned to Wakanda. There was nothing more they could do in New York, other than wait for word of James’ location.

That had been nearly a week ago.

There had been no signs of him. Even as more debris from Hong Kong appeared across the globe, there were no reports of a metal armed man.

They had no idea where he could be or if he would reappear.

It didn’t matter where James was, the only thing that matter was that he wasn’t _here_ with T’Challa.

T’Challa couldn’t help but think of the last time he had seen James, touched his skin, felt the beating of his heart beneath his hand.

It had been the morning T’Challa had departed Wakanda for Europe. It had been early in the morning, just as the sun began rising in the distance. James had been sprawled across his bed in his little cottage. His face had been slack with sleep, peaceful and calm in ways that it never was when awake.

T’Challa had watched him, riveted by the way his chest rose and fell with every deep breath. He had drank in the sight of him, needing to replenish himself for their weeks apart. If he had known then what was to happen, he would never have left that bed.

“Brother,” Shuri softly spoke as she came up behind him. T’Challa weakly acknowledged her as she sat next to him, pressing their shoulders together.

“You should rest.” she gently reprimanded him. He had hardly slept since their return from New York. It seemed impossible to do so when he could be awake, doing something, _anything,_ to try and locate James.

“You know I cannot.” he told her, his thumb moving over the smooth bead, finger digging into the grooves of the _fihankra_ emblem, symbolizing security and safety.

Things which T’Challa had promised to provide for James.

And look at how he was failing.

“What are you thinking of?” Shuri asked, watching him carefully.

“I did not kiss him.” T’Challa solemnly began, speaking of the matters buried deep within his heart.

Shuri’s brows furrowed but she did not speak, only waited for him to continue.

“All that week he had trouble sleeping,” T’Challa slowly and methodically spoke, the words taking their time to form. “Nightmares were plaguing him, ghosts haunting him even when awake. He was sleeping peacefully for the first time in days, like a child safe in their mother’s arms. I did not want to wake him. So I left without a kiss. I did not even say goodbye.”

He raised his head, locking eyes with his sister. “It was the last time I saw him and I did not say goodbye. It all seems so stupid now that he…is no longer here.”

“We will find him.” Shuri optimistically told him. When T’Challa ignored her encouragement, she slapped his shoulder hard, forcing him to look at her.

“We _will._ Besides, Bucky is too stubborn to die. Not when he has you waiting for him.”

That was true. T’Challa was waiting for him. He’d wait forever, if need be.

And Shuri was right, James was a fighter. He had survived decades of torture from Hydra. He would fight his way home.

He smiled thankfully at his sister and she echoed him back before her Kimoyo Beads beeped out an alert. She glanced down at the bracelet, eyes going wide at what she saw.

“What is it?” T’Challa asked, stomach tightening in anticipation.

“Bucky’s beads.” she whispered in astonishment, “He’s in Wakanda.”

T’Challa’s heart leapt to his throat. He wanted to run a thousand miles, climb a mountain, and swim across the ocean. The adrenaline was surging through him, excitement, relief, and despair all mixing together, threatening to send him asunder.

Quick as a fox, Shuri activated the device as the siblings huddled together to see the screen. It was a chaotic mess as they stared at the ground, James out of the shot.

“Bucky!” Shuri loudly yelled, hoping to catch the man’s attention. T’Challa leaned in, observing the sea of faces staring back at them.

The Border Tribe.

“Do you have his location?” he asked her. Shuri nodded and knocked their bracelets together, sending it to him. He was on his feet in an instant, stalking out the lab quickly.

“Prepare the Fighter.” he barked to Ayo as the Dora Milaje materialized around him. The aircraft was waiting for them as they exited Mount Bashenga. It took flight as soon as its occupants were settled and went flying through the air. Ayo followed the coordinates, speedily bringing them to the fringes of Wakanda, where the Border Tribe lived.

He was departing the jet before the hatch fully opened. He strode determinedly ahead, his body guards at his heels. A group of interested bystanders were gathered together, watching him with interested eyes.

“Where is he?” he urged to the nearest villager.

“There, My King.” He was pointed towards a simple hut. He marched it towards it, slipping through the open doorway as Ayo and Njeri took up their posts right at the door. He stepped into the shaded hut as light shone down in shattered beam through the hatched roof.

His eyes were immediately drawn to James.

He was lying on his back on a simple straw pallet. An IV was attached to his flesh arm as floating screens displayed his vitals. Standing above the unconscious man was a doctor.

“My King.” she greeted respectfully, hands crossing her chest in salute. T’Challa parroted it back without thinking, gaze still locked on the sleeping man.

He was not a pretty sight.

His clothes were ripped and tattered. The sun had had an effect, creating sunburn and blisters across his face. The serum was already beginning to work, now that James was out of the harsh elements. His lips were cracked, hair greasy and tangled.

He was still the most beautiful thing T’Challa had ever seen.

“How is he?” he quietly asked, not wanting to disturb James’ rest. He imagined it had been hard fought.

“He is suffering from both dehydration and malnourishment. Do not fret, nothing a few hours on an IV and a day or two of rest will not fix.”

T’Challa nodded, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Your Highness. I shall take my leave.” she rose and departed the hut, leaving them alone. T’Challa, slowly as if he could not believe the sight before him, came to James’ side, seating himself in a rickety chair. He reached out, taking hold of James’ flesh hand as he tangled their fingers together.

He nearly sobbed at the skin-on-skin contact. James’ hand was pleasantly warm, callouses rubbing against T’Challa’s own rough hands. T’Challa leaned in, pressing a kiss to the back of James’ hand as he held onto it tightly, like a lifeline.

He did not know how much time passed when he felt James squeezing his hand lightly. T’Challa raised his head, watching in amazement as his lover shifted slightly on the bed, eyes slowly blinking awake.

He seemed confused at his surroundings as he tried to take everything in. T’Challa’s heart was overfilled with joy as he watched him.

“Hello there.” he murmured gently, leaning in so James could see him. James stared at him for a long moment, incredulous and confused.

“Y-You’re not a mirage…right?” he hoarsely asked, voice gravelly with disuse and thirst. T’Challa felt a laugh rumble throughout his chest as he shook his head.

“I am very real, I promise you.” He reached out, cupping James’ cheek with his free hand. James pressed into the nuzzling touch.

“We’re home?” he tiredly asked, exhaustion clear in his pliant body. T’Challa nodded again, knowing how important it was for James to know he was safe in their homeland.

“Awesome.” James got out roughly, a coughing fit taking over. T’Challa helped him through it, petting his hair and whispering soothing phrases until James settled. James went quiet then and T’Challa almost thought he had slipped back into sleep when he surprised him by once again speaking.

“’Challa?”

“Yes, James?” the king asked, leaning in closer.

“I…I want to move in together.” James eyes were nearly closed, so he missed the brilliant smile that spread across T’Challa’s face.

“You do?”

James slowly nodded, blinking up at the king. “I really, really do.”

“Okay,” T’Challa told him. “When we return to the Palace, we shall move your belongings to my room.”

James’ lips curled up into a tiny grin. “Okay. Good.”

T’Challa couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good, indeed.”

And because he could not contain himself any more, he pressed closer to the super-soldier, claiming his mouth with his own in the kiss he should have taken weeks ago. James made of a noise of surprise but opened beneath T’Challa as his lips pressed against chapped ones, James’ unruly beard bristling against T’Challa’s face.

Finally, T’Challa pulled back, nose crinkling lightly.

“What?” James asked, confusion a cute look on his weathered face.

“You need to brush your teeth.” T’Challa told him somberly, face giving nothing away. “Your breath stinks.”

James gasped at the insult as he flopped about on the bed. “I almost died!”

T’Challa shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes as he finally broke, gleeful laughter flowing from his mouth. James, realizing he had been had, only rolled his eyes as he settled back down.

“The disrespect.” he muttered to himself, feeling very underappreciated at the moment.

T’Challa chuckled leaning down to steal another kiss, then another and finally one more before he was satisfied. He sat back in the chair, keeping a hold of James’ hand. “Sleep. I will stay with you.”

James looked hesitant as he bit his lip, “Promise?”

“I promise.” T’Challa assured, squeezing his hand. He thought that settled the matter and watched as James let out a deep breath, preparing for more rest. Just as he seemed ready to slip away, he spoke again.

“Hey, ‘Challa?”

“Yes, James?” T’Challa quietly indulged his lover. It took a long minute, but James finally responded.

“…missed you.”

T’Challa feel tears prick the corner of his eyes as he beamed wetly. He nodded to himself, a calmness covering them in this little hut, cut off from the world outside. They could stay awhile yet, just the two of them.

“I missed you too.”

James’ breaths evened out as sleep settled over him. And still T’Challa remained, vigilantly at his side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I finally completed this bad boy. I hope everyone enjoyed the conclusion. Just like I promised, Bucky and T'Challa weren't separated too long. I love them too much to ever cause too much pain to this couple. They deserve good things.
> 
> I'm using Google Translate for the Xhosa, which I can't guarantee is 100% accurate. If anything is glaringly off or people want to send me the correct translations, feel free to do so! 
> 
> Translations (in case you couldn't see them):  
> Yithathe - Take it  
> Ukukhishwa - Banishment  
> Ngeenyawo zakho, ijoni. - On your feet, soldier.  
> Phambili - Forward  
> Yima! - Wait!  
> Musa ukudubula! Ndingumhlobo waseKanda! - Do not shoot! I am a friend of Wakanda!  
> Ingcuka Emhlophe - White Wolf 
> 
> I'd love to hear any feedback you guys have. It always makes my day! 
> 
> Pic time!
> 
> Shuri in New York (minus the head scarf):  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/41568090734/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> Shuri in her lab:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/41387682905/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> The fihankra symbol for security/safety:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/157032205@N05/41387682965/in/dateposted-public/)


End file.
